


He Heard it Ringing and That's All He Did

by AmateurScribes



Series: Whumptober 2019 [22]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Death Sentence, Gen, Hallucinations, Hearing Voices, Prompt Fic, Whumptober 2019, effects of isolation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-29 13:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21141785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: Settling back on Chorus should have been the peaceful conclusion to their long and absurd story.It's not.





	He Heard it Ringing and That's All He Did

**Author's Note:**

> When I saw this on the prompt list, I was like, 'Ah, yes, my old Grif angst friend,' and then I realized, shit I have to create something original with this idea all over again. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> For the duration of this event, all mistakes are my own.

Now that they had defeated the Blues and Reds, and finally corrected the timeline, Simmons thought that everything would be fine again. After all, what were the chances of another world-threatening adventure falling into their lap?

Ok, it was actually pretty high, knowing them, but the point was that they usually had a small amount of reprieve in between so at the very least for the next month or so they could relax.

And that meant that he and Grif could finally be in the same area without fights or AI's separating them. And they could talk things out, and things could go back to the way they were before.

Despite the bad timing, they finally went out and got pizza- settling for an upstart Chorus business instead of trying to make the attempt back to Earth again- and Grif was beyond satisfied, and if Grif was happy then so was Simmons.

It didn't make sense to head back to Iris- especially since the state of the moon was unknown, for all they knew, the dinosaurs had overtaken their bases, wouldn't have been the first time something like that happened- so they all came upon the agreement that staying on Chorus was for the best.

And things had been going great- fantastic even! Simmons was so content with how life was going that he wasn't prepared in the slightest for when the other boot had dropped.

The news of Locus' death sentence comes as a shock to most of them- not that he would be sentenced to that, but rather, that he had gotten caught and well, that they had to find out from a news outlet celebrating the fact.

It didn't take a genius to connect the dots that the only time Locus could have been captured on this planet would have been when he was saving Wash's life.

This makes them- all of them- feel really guilty. And shitty- extremely shitty too.

It's the small insignificant detail, that the newscaster reports with complete glee, that Locus' one call had gone ignored upon his initial incarceration that causes Grif to run out of the room.

Naturally, Simmons follows him, slowly at first so as to not spook him from where he had covered his mouth and braced himself against the wall.

"He had called me," Grif whispered, sounding equal parts horrified. "When- when we were on our way to Earth, and- and I purposefully crashed the ship because he was  _ calling me." _

Grif looked up to Simmons with guilt-reddened eyes, eyebrows knitted together in consternation.

"You couldn't have known that he had been imprisoned," Simmons mollified. 

"But I should have answered," Grif shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. "What kind of  _ shitty _ partner am I? I should have answered."

"I doubt it would have changed much," he tried again, reaching out to place his hands on Grif's shoulders, leading him towards their shared room. "Come on, I know you wouldn't pass up the chance to nap, and you deserve it at this point."

"God, I'm so shitty," Grif murmured, but otherwise let Simmons lead him away.

Without a doubt, that news was the catalyst that started to sour their temporary vacation. Simmons almost wished something would come up so that they could all be forced to move on and away from the subject, but nothing spurned on a call to adventure and he had to watch as the knowledge hung over everyone's heads like a weighted rain cloud.

He doesn't know why he isn't more sympathetic- the mercenary did help them out after all. But he still remembers that not too long ago when the man wasn't on their side, and it's not like he had ever really interacted with the man.

But it mattered to Grif, and since nothing could be done- and that was a fact, there was  _ nothing _ that could stop or erase the sentence, Locus was without a doubt guilty of the crimes charged against him, and unless they tried to gaslight an entire planet that wasn't just going to suddenly change- it was up to him to console the ever-growing remorseful orange soldier.

And it isn't long before Simmons realizes that maybe they should have inquired more into what exactly had happened to Grif on the moon, and what state Locus had found the man in to incite this small amount of loyalty.

Because Grif seemed like he was growing distant mentally as the days before the execution grew nearer, head jerking up and turning towards what Simmons perceived as an inaudible sound, getting looks of regret on his face in flashes, gone too quickly to be considered momentary thoughts.

He fiddled with his hands more often, as if he needed something to do with them, and the more it developed into a nervous habit, the more Simmons suspected that it wasn't a new development, but rather a reoccurring one.

But Grif didn't want to talk about Iris- claimed that the whole thing was behind him, that thinking about it would just bring back unwanted feelings.

The only other people who had any clue about what had happened to Grif were in jail or only spoke Spanish.

And Simmons wouldn't be able to learn a language in the short amount of time that he had to comfort Grif, and he certainly wasn't going to be making a trip to death row just to hound the mercenary.

So he was stuck on what he could possibly say or do to make it up to Grif. 

This whole thing was a mess, through and through.

In between visits to Wash in the hospital, Simmons tried to cheer Grif up by doing the things that they used to love to do- discussing books, movies, comics,  _ whatever _ just discussing that 'nerd shit' as Tucker called it- but that was really only a temporary fix.

It all comes to a head when Simmons wakes up in the middle of the night to the sounds of Grif mumbling under his breath.

"I'm sorry, I- no, fucking hell, this is all my fault, I should have answered your call, fuck, what if you needed me to testify for you in court," Grif hissed, hands tugging on loose strands of his hair.  _ "You're a disappointment, a liar as well, _ fuck I know I'm sorry-"

"Grif," Simmons asked, softly so as to not wake up any of the others in the apartment. "Are you ok?"

_ "Don't answer him, this is a conversation between me and you," _ Grif was lowering his voice, mimicking the inflection and cadence to how Locus spoke. Grif's eyes were trained right in front of him, occasionally trailing as if they were watching the movement of somebody else. "It's just Simmons he already knows how much of a  _ useless, failure _ I am."

"Grif, who are you talking to?" swallowing the lump in his throat, his eyes darted in the direction that Grif was looking, seeing nothing. What he really wanted to ask was,  _ 'why are you talking to yourself?' _

"Locus, he's here and he's mad at me," Grif closed his eyes and dipped his head in shame.

Growing uncomfortable and uncertain, Simmons pointed out, "It's just us here, Grif."

"Can't you see him!?" Grif sounded upset, opening his eyes and gesturing towards the empty space. "He- he didn't explain how he got out, but he had to make sure I knew that I had fucked up."

"There's no one there," Simmons edged towards the side of his bed, sliding the covers off of himself. 

"He just activated his active camo, he doesn't want you listening in," Grif explained, sounding as if he genuinely believed what he was saying.

"You're seeing things," he said, not firmly per se, but it genuinely sounded as though Grif was hallucinating, and if he was he wanted to make sure it wasn't due to some outside interference.

"No, I'm not, I-  _ fuck," _ he whispered, head going towards his mattress. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

Getting off of his bed, he padded over to Grif, standing beside him, a hand on his shoulder, "Doing what again, Grif? Are you feeling ok?"

"This is just like Iris all over again," Grif said, muffled. "Except this time, if I try to reach out to touch him, he won't really be there, will he?"

Concern shot through his veins, but Simmons nodded and said, "No, he won't be."

"Fuck," and that was the last thing Grif had to say on the matter before lifting his head up to stare at Simmons, bags under his eyes, and he just wonders how many nights the other man had spent like this, staying up berating himself before he passed out from exhaustion.

Not waiting for an invitation to do so, he sat down on Grif's bed and leaned against the other man, willing to be the support that he needed.

Grif leaned back, resting his head on Simmons' shoulder.

For a moment, he had thought that the other man had fallen asleep, but Grif broke the silence asking, "This is really shitty, right? Like it's not just me who thinks that?"

Were it the others he had asked this, they would agree with him. But Simmons is indifferent. So he lies, "Yeah, yeah it is."

Not too long after that, Grif really does fall asleep, and Simmons is left wondering if he had hallucinations often, and if they had started up on Iris and why- and who he saw or heard or whatever. He wondered why he was doing that voice, and if he had any others when he had an episode like this.

Most of all he wondered when the next stupid adventure would get off its ass and just happen already.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that Grif's stint on Iris left more lasting scars then for just the Castaway gag, so I kinda headcanon that if he's particularly guilty or stressed he'll relapse and have a similar episode to what happened on the moon.
> 
> If you'd like to contact me, you can find me at either of my Tumblr's: @agent-murica (main) and @amateurscribes (writing)!


End file.
